


I Can See You

by hyucksie (renjunlite)



Category: K-pop, NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Childhood Trauma, Divorce, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Slow Burn, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:34:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24554740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renjunlite/pseuds/hyucksie
Summary: Haechan was the imaginary friend you conjured when you were six years old. Lee Donghyuck, however, was your very real and very grown-up classmate in college, and he was taking up every bit of space in your terribly confused mind.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Reader
Comments: 20
Kudos: 41





	1. The Blue Whale

“Is this what the blue whales feel?” You whispered the question to no one in particular, free of inhibition as you voiced out your random thoughts now that you were finally living alone. Lying on your back, your eyes were trained intently on the ceiling of your room. It looked more and more like the blank whiteness of it was staring at you, so you stared back harder, waiting and daring it to make something,  _ anything, _ happen. The seconds ticked by and your eyes were welling up from the dryness, so you sighed as you closed them, eyelids pushing out a pair of tears to race down your cheeks. Making no move to wipe them away, you instead inhaled deeply, spread your arms out on either side of you, and slowly dragged your palms across the bed’s crisp white sheets that still smelled faintly of home... “No.”

Quickly, you chased away the thought of the place you so desperately wanted to detach yourself from, shaking your head and burrowing deeper into the pillow like you were burying the memory along with it. You waited for the image to vanish from your mind, watched it fade into nothing, and then opened your eyes to find the same emptiness above you. “I don’t like you.” If the ceiling had eyes, you thought it was probably blinking at your brazen confession. “It feels like you’re mocking me.” It didn’t deny your accusation. You sat up with your knees slightly bent, hauling a spare sheet over your body, pulling it upwards so that it covered up to your shoulders. You wondered what you must look like right now: engulfed in white sheets and pillows, surrounded by white walls stripped bare, swallowed beneath the expanse of a white ceiling, drowning in nothing, nothing, nothing…  _ Is this what the blue whales feel? _

_ Ding. _ The shrill sound was like a coin dropped in the middle of an empty hallway. You dug a hand into the front pocket of your hoodie and fished out your phone.

> **Unknown [2:28 pm]:** Good afternoon Ms. Y/N :D This is Starlite Express. I have your packages ready at the lobby :D

Your nails tapped loudly on the screen, with short intervals of silence as you typed, erased, typed, erased, and finally typed the smiley at the end of your reply.

> **You [2:30 pm]:** hello. on my way down :)

_ Would seem rude not to add at least one. They sent two. _ You slipped on your indoor flip-flops, too lazy to bother with presentable footwear, and made your way to the elevator down the hall.

* * *

You expected the mover to be somewhat young, but you didn’t think it would be someone your age, and with blue hair at that. “It’s a summer job,” he explained though you never asked, likely that he noticed how you haven’t stopped staring at him the whole ride back up. “Today’s actually my last. I’m starting college soon.” _Me too,_ you answered in your head. Outwardly, you smiled, although not quite as big as the one he kept beaming at you. It was no use forcing small talk with… _Jaemin_ , as his name tag indicated. _We’ll probably never meet again after this._

You walked over to your study desk as he wheeled in the boxes. Taking scissors and a box cutter with you, you turned back to find the packages unstacked. Jaemin had his hands on his hips, neck craning as he swept a look around your unit. He smiled again when he saw you approaching him. “You live alone?” You nodded, noticing how his eyes trailed down to your hands. “I can help you with that.” You almost jumped back when his arm reached for the cutter, instinctively squeezing it harder in your hand. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be...?” “Oh. It’s okay. You’re my last schedule today. Wait, that means you’re my last client on the job!” You tried to focus on his smile and not the fact that he’s a complete stranger. Reluctantly, you surrendered the box cutter to his outstretched hand, after which he immediately strode to the farthest box. “I’ll start over here.”

Surprisingly, your spontaneous unpacking partner helped you gain steady rhythm, only bothering you then and now to ask  _ Where do you want me to put this? _ You could see him drawing near you again from your periphery as you were about to open the last box. “You don’t happen to go to Liberty, do you?” He had three of your textbooks in one arm, a brow lifted in curiosity. “Yeah, I do.” He clapped a firm hand over the top of the books, making you twitch in your seat. “Me too! I have the same  _ Everyone’s an Author  _ for my CW 100 class, so I figured.” “You’re taking creative writing too?” “It’s my free elective. My roommate, Renjun, convinced me and my other friend to join him. The other guy lives here too, by the way! Just a floor above you. His name’s Jeno. Anyway, we figured we could just mooch off of Renjun and pass the course easy, so now we’re all taking it together. Am I talking too much again?” Offering a little smile, you shook your head no. “Not at all. But, wow… that is such a coincidence.” Jaemin grinned at you, and you wondered if his cheeks never ached. “I think that’s the most animated I’ve heard you speak today, classmate.”

Fifteen minutes later, you put the cutter and scissors back to their drawer. “Have you checked the updated course guide for CW?” Jaemin’s voice cut through from where he was seated on one of the chairs of your small dining table. “It was updated?” You walked over to the fridge and grabbed two Capri Suns, passing one to Jaemin. If anyone barged in on you right now, they never would’ve guessed you only met the guy today. “Two days ago. Our professor was changed last minute, apparently. You should check your student portal. Dude’s already giving us homewo–” A familiar tone you recognized as Marimba broke off his complaint. Without even so much as looking at his phone, Jaemin was already sighing. “Speak of the devil.” “Um, our new professor’s calling you?” “What? No. It’s my boss. Guy’s the devil.” That didn’t make much sense to you, but you mouthed an  _ Ahh _ in faux understanding. “Guess I gotta go now. Mind if I take one more with me?” He waved an empty Capri Sun in your face. “Just take a new one from the fridge and throw that one in the bin.” “Nice!” Jaemin left shortly after, with a Capri Sun between his teeth as he held the doorknob in one hand and high fived you with the other. “See you next week!” He had shouted when he was already down the hall. 

Left to your own devices, you switched on your laptop to check the syllabus. 

> _ Course code: CW 100. _
> 
> _ Instructor: Asst. Prof. Choi Siwon, Ph.D. _
> 
> _ As a preemptive assessment, write a creative piece under 3,000 words on the topic of “childhood memories.” This work will not be graded, but it is required for me to evaluate the class’s current skill level. Kindly submit your work three days before the start of classes to the email address indicated below. _

“Alright. There’s nothing else to do anyway.” You summoned the familiar word processor to life, its virtual page standing before you in attention, the black text cursor like a smidge on the otherwise pristinely white screen. It was blinking, like it was waiting for you. You blinked back, matching the flutter of your eyelids with the pulsing black line until you got tired of seeing the white emptiness. Words. You needed to fill it with words.  _ With childhood memories. _ You sighed with your eyes closed, willing any good stories from your past to materialize. They came flying in, the unwanted ones all unbidden, like a raining deck of cards that each fell splat on the table of your imagination. You picked them apart, turning each card face down one after the other. “No. Not you. Not good enough. Rejected.” You kept whispering like a madwoman with your eyes still closed and your eyebrows creased in effort until there it was. A card with the sun in your hands. “Oh. It’s you.” You opened your eyes, laid the pads of your fingers over the keyboard, and began to type.

> _ Where do our imaginary friends go when we grow up? _

* * *

Your mother worried you were too quiet for a six year old, and to her fear, your doctor at the time told her those worries were valid. She was hoping for consolation, a reprimand even, that she was just a paranoid newly-single mother. She wanted to be thrown a bone, but instead she was handed a calling card.  _ Kim Hyojin. Child Psychologist. _ They talked over the phone at night while you were sprawled on the living room floor, peeking underneath the couch to find the dust bunnies you’ve been so enamored with ever since watching Totoro.  _ Thank you for calling. No, seeking help doesn’t mean there is anything wrong with her – or the way you’re raising her. You’re doing the right thing – for her. _

The next day, you sat on the soft mat of an unfamiliar room, little throw pillows and plushies surrounding you, and a woman you’d just met with a jar of tokens and pieces of colorful paper in her hands. She had tried speaking to you for the last 20 minutes, but you were entirely unresponsive, so she said you were going to play a game instead. She opened the jars and laid them in front of you. “This is called the Feeling Word Game. Are you ready to play?” You nodded timidly. “Now, I want you to tell me all the feelings that you know and I’m gonna write them down on these cards. Do you know what feelings are?” You nodded. “Happy, sad, angry, scared, excited…” you trailed off. There was one card left. “How about love? Do you know what that feeling is?” She waited for you to nod before writing down the last word. “Good job! Now, these are tokens. I’ll be telling you a story, and when I ask ‘How does that feel?’ you take one of these tokens and put it on one of the feeling cards. If it made you feel happy, put a token on the happy card. If it made you feel sad, put a token on the sad card. You can put two or more tokens on different cards if you want. Are you ready?” You nodded yes.

“There was a little boy named… Haechan. He was six years old, and he had a pet dog, and he lived in a small house with his mommy and daddy. How does that feel?” Happy. “He plays with his daddy every day.” Happy. “His mommy tucks him to bed every night.” Love. Happy. “One day, he lost his dog.” Sad. “His daddy leaves the house, saying they can’t play today because he needs to go out and look for their pet.” You paused, lingering between happy and sad. In the end, happy. “That night, mommy tucked him into bed. ‘Is daddy back?’ he asked, ‘No. He’s outside fighting monsters to get our dog back.’” Excited. “The next day, he woke up and daddy still wasn’t home. ‘Where’s daddy?’ ‘He’s still outside, fighting dragons. They’re stronger than the monsters, so he won’t be back for a while.’” Scared. “The next day, ‘Where’s daddy?’ ‘Fighting the dragons’ ‘Are the dragons winning?’ ‘I don’t know.’” Scared. Sad. “The next day, it was his birthday. ‘Where’s daddy?’ ‘The dragons are his friends now. He can’t come home today. I’m sorry, honey.’” Sad. Angry. “The next day, ‘Where’s daddy?’ ‘Your daddy lives with the dragons now.’” Angry. Angry. Angry. “‘But look, mommy’s still here.’” Sad. Angry. “‘And your daddy sent you a gift.’” Sad. Angry. “‘It’s another dog.’” Sad. Happy. Sad. “His mommy tucked him into bed with his dog that night. ‘Mommy loves you.’” Love. Happy. Sad.

“You did a great job, honey. Thank you for playing with me. Our little date is over, so let’s go outside and wait for your mommy to pick you up, okay?” You took her hand as she led you outside of her home office, sitting you down on one of the couches in the receiving area. “I’ll get you a juice box for being such a good girl today. Wait for me here, okay?” Your legs dangled from where you sat, swinging back and forth restlessly. And then the crashing sound of a door slamming open, the whipping feeling of wind passing you by, a flurry of black hair running past you so quick you weren’t sure if it was real. 

“Coco! Coco, no!” He came running back to your direction. A boy. He was chasing after a little brown dog that had a toy dragon clutched in its teeth. You slipped off the couch, crouching to where the dog was running towards you, arms spread wide to receive the collision of dog and dragon against you. You fell backwards at the impact, but the wet licks on your face had you giggling, taking no mind of the pain. The boy now stood next to you, looking down. “Who are you?” He asked, hands on his hips. “Haechan?” “Your name is Haechan?” “No,  _ your  _ name is Haechan.” The boy repeated your answer in a mocking slurred tone, but pulled you by the arm to help you up.  _ “My _ name is Y/N.” “Weird name.” “No it’s not!” “Yes it is!” “Nuh uh!” “Yuh huh!” 

You continued bickering and playing until you heard the clock chime 4:00. “I have to go practice piano now. Bye, loser.” You stuck your tongue out at him before he ran off again. “Who was that, honey?” Your counselor lady had come back with apple juice in hand. “I created a friend!” “You mean you met a new friend?” “No, I  _ made  _ him. It’s Haechan, from your story. We fought the dragon today with his dog, Coco.” “Oh. Is that so? Did you have fun together?” You smiled wide and nodded yes. Yes, it was fun. You heard the doorbell buzz. “That must be your mom. Come on. I’ll see you again tomorrow, okay?”

That night, you told your mom about the friend you quite literally made, you even had her set-up an extra seat at the dinner table because he was “eating with you” tonight. When you went to bed, you imagined him snuggled in the bedspread you bunched up on the floor below you. “No,  _ I’m _ getting the bed and  _ you’re  _ sleeping on the floor because this is  _ my _ house,” you pointed a finger at the air where he’s supposedly standing and giving you a nasty glare. Your mom didn’t make a big deal out of it, in fact she thought it was the most she’s heard you talk in months. As you slowly drifted off to sleep, you smiled at the thought of going to see your counselor lady again the next day. Somehow, in that unfamiliar house of hers, your imaginary friend was a lot more loud, a lot more vivid, and just a lot more  _ real. _

* * *

You yawned and stretched your arms out in your chair, nodding at the screen before you. You were quite proud of it, actually. It was a story based on your own experience, of the imaginary friend that suddenly disappeared from your life at age eight. “That’s part of life,” your new counselor told you. “That’s you growing up.” You had stopped going to your sessions a month later, deciding that it’s too boring and you didn’t need it anymore. You were doing well in school, you had friends. You’ve thought little of Haechan since then, until tonight. Tonight, you wrote about him trying to look for the friend who made him after all those years. He was still six years old, Coco was still there too, but the dragons he fought were now people,  _ adults,  _ who stood in the way between you and your imagination, between grown-up you and the child within who made him.

2:16 am, your lockscreen informed you. You shut down your laptop and switched off the lights, leaving just the blue hue of the lava lamp on your table as you plopped down on the bed. You wrapped the sheets around you, looking at the ceiling that now had little blobs of lighter blue slowly drifting around. “Now I really could drown in you.” You snuggled deeper into the sheets, lying on your side and closing your eyes. You wondered what you would dream of tonight. You thought of Jaemin and his blue, blue hair. You thought of little Haechan, his face as he fell in slow motion into the blackhole of your memories. And then you fell asleep.

That night, you dreamt of the deep blue ocean, of the gentle giant that swam alone underneath it.  _ This is what I feel, _ it was shouting.  _ This is how it feels. _ You couldn’t hear its cries, so you swam away.

* * *

If you thought Jaemin smiled too much, it was only because you haven’t met Jeno. It was 8:00 am on a Tuesday, and even Jaemin had a frown on his face when he entered the room before trying to get some sleep hunched over his armchair. Jeno was the polar opposite. Although he yawned every now and then, it was immediately followed by his eyes scrunching into crescent moons, the smile on his face only taking a break whenever he needed to talk. He was just so calming to look at. Renjun, on the other hand, was excited with eyes wide open. He seemed restless, even. “My cousin took this course last year under the same professor. Said Choi is a legend. He’s chill but you’ll definitely learn more than just writing.” You tilted your head in question. “What else are we supposed to learn in creative writing…?” Renjun threw his hands up in front of you, eyes round as saucers like the answer was obvious.  _ “Art, Y/N! _ We’re here to appreciate art!” Jaemin sat up, blinking twice at Renjun before grumbling, “You realize there’s a whole other course called Art Appreciation, right?”

“You’re both right, actually.” The unfamiliar voice pulled your attention to the front, and just then you realized how small your class was, about 15 people give or take. Unsurprising that creative writing wasn’t the most popular in the course selection. “Because writing  _ is _ an art, but we won’t be doing it the same way they do it over at ArtAp. In this course, you will learn how to appreciate –  _ Na Jaemin!” _ The owner of the name jolted in his seat, suddenly wide awake and rushing up to get the sheet of paper being handed to him by the professor. “As well as how to create and re-create your own pieces of art. Welcome to Creative Writing 100. I’m Choi Siwon, and you can call me whatever you want.” Jeno snickered, whispering “Mr. Whatever You Want,” to a still recovering Jaemin. “Well, anything but that, kid.” That was the first time you saw Jeno’s smile die down. “Huang Renjun!” One by one, papers were being handed while Choi snuck in bits of information about the course. It wasn’t organized, and you liked that spontaneity. It was a little nerve-wracking, but at the same time comfortable. 

“I’m handing back the work you submitted to me online with a few comments. Purely grammatical, because the fun part starts with our next activity, and you’re gonna need a partner for that.” The class erupted in varying reactions: grunts, sighs, some high fives here and there. “Hey Y/N, wanna pair up?” Jeno had his eye smile on full blast as he looked at you hopefully. Jaemin was already smothering Renjun in a crushing hug next to you. “Yeah, su–” “However, your partners will be randomly assigned.” Complaints could be heard from left and right at Choi’s sudden addition. “I know, I know. But trust me, this makes for better experience and diversity in your writing styles. Plus, I’m in charge so,” he shrugged, jutting his lips down as if to say  _ What can you do? _

Just then, someone belatedly entered the room. Unfortunately for him, the scattered attention was now focused like a laser beam on him. “Good morning, sir. Sorry I’m…” He looks around, finally feeling all the eyes on him. “...late.” The first thing you noticed was his honey tan skin, the sunlight seeping from the windows making it look golden, like he was glowing. He was wearing an oversized black graphic t-shirt and jeans, his hair dyed a light brown, the irises of his eyes such a deep color, almost black and, and… and there was something else about him you couldn’t put a finger on. You didn’t think you ever had a type when it came to boys, but if you ever did, _he_ would probably be it. He scanned around the room, and then his eyes landed on you for a second. Usually, you would immediately pull your gaze away when caught staring, but there really was something… like you were  _ forgetting _ something. He didn’t look away either. He blinked once, twice–and then it  _ clicked. _

Those eyes. You knew them. The faint scar on his eyelid. You knew where that came from. “Impossible,” you mumbled. “Perfect! That gives us an even number. What’s your name?” Choi asked him, and the familiar sound of your heart racing against your ribcage beat its way to your ears. “Lee Donghyuck, sir.” And then the calm, a wash of cold, faint disappointment over you. Were you expecting a different answer? “Haechan,” you mumbled under your breath. “What?” Renjun’s voice finally pulled away your stare. “No–nothing…” 

When you looked back, Haecha–no. No.  _ Donghyuck _ already reached for the paper in Choi’s hand, walking to an empty seat in the front row. “As I was saying, I’ll be assigning you partners for our next activity. Hold onto those papers I gave back. You’ll need them for the rest of the month because we’ll be doing literary analysis and critique on them. I want you to edit the technical issues I’ve pointed out in your work, and then your partner will act as your critic, or literary editor if you want to make it softer. This time, you’ll zero in on the creative aspects of your work, the  _ art _ in them, right Renjun?” Renjun lit up at the mention of his name, nodding enthusiastically. “Teacher’s pet…” Jaemin muttered. 

“You’ll revise as your partner advises you to, and every Tuesday you’ll be presenting what changes you endorsed to your partner and  _ why. _ I won’t be grading any of your working drafts, but we’re having the presentations just to make sure you’re actually making progress. By the end of this activity, you’ll have had three presentations and revisions, and you’ll be submitting your final draft to be graded by then.” Choi paused and the room was quiet, just letting the instructions soak in. “There’s a sentiment to that, have you realized? I’m not letting you write about ‘childhood memories,’ slap it down on my table and call it a day when I mark it a C. Your first piece in my class is your figurative child. Your baby steps. And you’re gonna help it grow for the next three weeks until it’s stable enough to run.” The atmosphere stilled in the classroom for a few seconds. Then, Renjun’s hand was in the air. “Sir? What about lectures?” “That’s what our Thursdays are for.” Choi threw in an unexpected wink, and you swore you heard someone squeak from the back row.

“Alright! Now the moment you’ve been waiting for. I’m gonna read out who’s paired up with who, so listen carefully.” You were startled by Jaemin suddenly hunching into a prayer position with his eyes squeezed shut, muttering “Please be Renjun or Y/N, please be Renjun or Y/N,” repeatedly. Jeno quickly followed suit. “First up, Liu Yangyang and Huang Renjun.” A disappointed sigh came out of both boys, modifying their chant to just “Please be Y/N,” Jeno knocking Jaemin’s shoulder with his like it was a competition. “Na Jaemin with Lee Jeno.” The two boys turned their heads sharply to the other, staring at each other in despair. Renjun laughs out loud beside you. Two by two, names were announced and heads scanned around the room to look for their new project partners. And then it was your turn. “Y/N with…” You had no problem partnering with someone you didn’t know. Writing was your hobby, and you’d enjoy it no matter what, you thought. “...Lee Donghyuck.” Oh. _Oh._

Everything was motion blur and background noise. The sounds of chairs being dragged and half-meant greetings as people stood up to meet their new partners was muffled all over. Your eyes were glued to the back of his head, watching it move from left to right, turning around to find you... and then he found you. Like Lee Donghyuck had the power to wake up reality with a single look, the moment his eyes landed on yours time crashed down, and suddenly you were hyper aware of your surroundings. Jaemin and Jeno still bickering beside you, begging Renjun to take one of them in. Mr. Choi shouting “I’ll see everyone on Thursday!” The bodies brushing in front of you as people were still moving about, like those cinema shadows in bootlegged movies. “Y/N. Y/N!” Jeno’s voice poured cold water over you, pulling you from the daze. “You still wanna be my partner right? Switch with me please, _please.”_ “Oh no buddy, if she’s switching she’s going with _me.”_ Jaemin and Jeno began talking over each other again, until Renjun came to your rescue. “She’s not switching with either of you dipshits. Right, Y/N?” You stared up at him, seeing how he held both boys by their collars. You thanked him in your head. “You don’t get to freeload on _anyone,_ so suck it up boys.” Before Renjun could rough them up further, the bell had rung. They were saved, and so were you.

In a rush, you shoved your paper into your tote bag and quickly stood from your seat. “Hey Y/N! Where are you going?” You heard Jaemin shout behind you. “My next class is in Bartlett!” You shouted back, not daring to look behind you as you hurried out. You named the building at the farthest end of campus to escape suspicion. About to turn down the hall, you couldn’t help but look back. There he was, dodging the flood of students going the opposite way and the doors suddenly flapping open left and right. He was huffing, and when someone bumped into him, he poked his tongue against his cheek and closed his eyes in annoyance.  _ Haechan. There is no way that isn’t Haechan. But there’s also no way that it’s really him– _

“Hey!” You turned back around, turning left down the hall. “Hey, wait up!” He was calling for you. “Y/N!” You pretended not to hear him shout, and you ran away.


	2. The Little Duckie (i)

The dying leaves on the trees outside were starting to fall out faster than the pages of your counselor’s desk calendar. Still, despite the months that flew by, you could count the things you knew about Haechan on just one hand.

 _One: he loved to play._ Although he grew tired of dragonslayer, Haechan never ran low on new ideas (well, you would argue they were _your_ ideas too, since _he_ was your idea after all). Today it was a cross between rock-paper-scissors and Simon says, and you’ve been slaving away to his every order since the game started. “Rock, paper, scissors–shoot!” His scissors to your paper. “Ha! I win again. Simon says… jump!” You huffed as you got to your feet, annoyed that you had to do his bidding once more, but a little surprised that it was a tame request this time. You jumped like you held a bag of stones in each hand. Barely a hop, really, as you wanted to spite him, but you swiftly realized you could never outdo him in that aspect because–

 _Two: he liked to tease._ “You lose!” “But you said jump!” “I said jump, but not land.” The apples of his cheeks grew fuller and rounder as you stared, trying to understand what was so funny while he was doubled over in childish laughter. How were you supposed to float in mid-air? “B-but that’s no fair!” Your cheeks flooded with warmth when you heard him laugh even louder over your protest. You peered with narrowed eyes as he threw his head back, your fists bunched up on your sides. “Aw. Are you mad, _little duckie?”_ You thought of the cartoons you watched every morning, how the red would rise from their necks and the smoke steam out of their ears. He started calling you “little duckie” for that very reason. If he pushed your buttons just enough, he said you looked _exactly_ like Donald Duck whenever he threw a fit. So when you heard the nickname, you had to resist the urge to grab a clump of his wavy black hair and instead turned the other way and sat on the opposite couch, arms crossed and eyes fixed on your knees knocked together. His giggles died down, leaving silence afloat in the air, which you expected because–

 _Three: he never says sorry._ When you noticed him moving towards you, you snapped your gaze to your far right. Of all the times he’s taunted you, Haechan has never apologized. But it didn’t bother you as much as it should have, that he never _says_ sorry–

 _Four: because he always shows it._ “Do you wanna play dragonslayer again? You can slay the dragon this time.” A child’s pride was a funny thing. Yes, you did want to play dragonslayer (and for once be the one to do the actual slaying), but agreeing with him felt just as bad as letting him win again, so you kept your gaze away. “No.” If Haechan wanted to play, then you were going to play hard to get. “What about tag?” You shook your head. “What do you wanna play then?” Finally, you met his eyes. “Hide and seek,” you answered, not giving it much thought. You were just proud that you were handed the reins for that one decision. After all, it never mattered what the game was with Haechan because in the end–

 _Five: he always wins._ By the time Haechan counted to ten, you already ran off and locked yourself in the washroom. It only took a few seconds before you heard footsteps growing louder, getting closer, picking up speed like the way your heart pounded at the thrill of being discovered. He didn't knock. He already knew the door was locked because you did the same thing every time. “Come on out now. You can’t hide from me forever, _little duckie!”_ You giggled to yourself, pushing the back of your hand against your lips to muffle the laughter. Your shield proved futile though, little shrieks of excitement shooting out of you as he jiggled the doorknob. “Locking doors is cheating!” He reminded you, the pout you knew he would be wearing already painted in your mindʼs eye. When the doorknob ceased its rattling, you approached it slowly. Your hand made contact with the cold metal, turning it once to hear the _pop!_ as it unlocked, and then closing your eyes before turning it once more, your heart ricocheting in anticipation of him waiting to capture you outside. 

* * *

_“Boo!”_ A strangled scream ripped out of you as you slammed the door shut and scrambled backwards on your feet. When the pounding of your heart silenced and the laughter on the other side of the door grew louder, you huffed and stomped your way outside of the classroom. “Jaemin? What was that for?!” You greeted him with a scowl on your face. He was struggling to suppress his laughter, trying to explain himself in between breaths. “I didn’t know you’d be _that_ scared,” he said with a glint in his eyes. 

“Whatever,” you mumbled, a frown still evident on your face, “why are you even here?” “So you’ve really been avoiding us, huh?” Jaemin shot you a disappointed look, making you cast your eyes downwards, pulling away from his gaze. “I wasn’t avoiding you…” Jaemin raised an eyebrow at the weak defense, but that much was true. You weren’t avoiding _them._ You were avoiding _someone else,_ and unfortunately your newfound friends were caught up in the collateral damage. It was already Thursday, and you haven’t seen the guys since your CW class last Tuesday. Your irrational apprehension made you leave all of Jaemin’s “where are you??? :o” texts unanswered, each one escalating in worry and emojis. “Okay, maybe I did… but I didn’t mean to!” You raised both hands in front of you, “I promise.”

Thankfully, he just shrugged without digging any further. “I know how you could make it up to us, though.” You gave him a questioning look, a little cautious of what he might suggest. “You’re treating us to lunch!” Without giving you a chance to object, Jaemin grabbed your wrist and began speed walking, pulling you along with him. “Renjun and Jeno are waiting for us at Brickfire.” “Wait, I’m paying for all _three_ of you?” “Fine, just treat me because _I_ met you first and therefore _I_ am your best friend.” You grunted at his explanation, but the smile on your face betrayed you. 

Truthfully, you were grateful for this little group you found yourself in, and even more thankful of how easily they made you feel lighthearted and at home with them. You thought of how much harder it would have been if you were all alone to your thoughts, making guilt rush through you from ghosting them, even if it was only for a day. “Fine,” you caved in, Jaemin stopping in his tracks to give you a hopeful look. “You’re buying me lunch?” You shook your head, “No,” and you chuckled at how the little twinkle in his eyes was extinguished so fast. “Not just you. All three of you knuckleheads.”

* * *

It turns out that emptying your wallet and filling their stomachs wasn’t enough to save you from Renjun’s lecturing. “You _cannot_ skip the first lecture with Choi, Y/N!” While Jaemin and Jeno attempted to siphon information about the assigned reading from you and Renjun, you had let your plans of cutting the next class slip out. “I would expect it from these two, but not you. Besides, our Thursday classes for CW start at 2pm. What excuse do you have to skip?” Your eyes wandered to Jaemin and Jeno seated across you, both of them too busy digging into their food to notice they’ve just been dissed. “I’m just... not feeling it today, okay?” You reasoned, shooting a weak smile at Renjun. You haven’t told them about your mission to avoid Donghyuck like the plague. You didn’t want to go through explaining the whole situation to them because, well, you didn’t even understand your own paranoia about him. 

“Then why do you have the readings with you?” Renjun asked, a finger pointed accusingly at the papers peeking out of your tote bag before pulling them out altogether. “Hey, put those ba–” “They’re even highlighted _and_ annotated!” Renjun looked genuinely impressed, scanning through your little notes with one hand, the other attempting to reach for Jaemin’s fries before getting slapped away. “You aren’t even eating them!” “Not _yet,”_ Jaemin answered sharply, about to shove a bunch of fries in his mouth to seal his point. Renjun looked vexed, though his expression was swiftly replaced by a smirk. “I’ll trade you Y/N’s notes for the fries.” With that, Jaemin’s hand stopped mid-shove and instead dropped the fries onto Renjun’s plate, quickly followed by a whole carton of them. You squeaked at the sight of Jaemin’s greasy fingers making grabby hands at the papers still in Renjun’s hand. “Why are you using _my_ stuff as _your_ bargaining chip?!” You protested, trying to pry the notes away from Renjun, him only pulling harder against you. “Like you said, _you’re not even going to class,_ so you won’t need these anymore!” 

Your little tug-of-war was in vain, though. Jeno, who had been quietly enjoying his food this whole time, suddenly slid a tall glass of half-melted chocolate sundae in front of Renjun before standing up, grabbing both your hands and pulling you apart like stubborn velcro. _“I’ll_ take these, thank you,” he sang as he took your notes captive before sitting back down. Jaemin shimmied closer to Jeno, the tip of his tongue peeking out the corner of his mouth as he strained to glimpse at the papers as well. “What are these? Polysyndeton, hypophora, procatalepsis… I thought your notes were supposed to make this easier,” Jeno softly complained, his bewildered eyes flickering left and right at your handwritten commentary. 

“Sound like diseases if you ask me,” Jaemin mumbled beside him, his hand poised to take hold of the page Jeno just finished scanning. He didn’t get a chance to, however, as Jeno flicked him in the forehead and moved the sheet away from him. “Wipe your hands first, you nasty.” Jeno threw a bunch of napkins at his friend before turning to look at you with that easy smile of his. “Could you help me with this, Y/N?” How could you say no after he so aggressively defended your pristine notes? 

You sighed, although a little smile could be traced on your lips, and stood to sit beside Jeno. “Hey, no! Not there.” Jaemin’s shout forced all three of you to face him. “Get up, Jeno. Y/N should sit in the middle.” Jeno shot him an annoyed look, but Jaemin cut him off before he could say anything. “I want in! I sacrificed my fries for this too.” Jaemin threw a pointed look across him, and you followed his gaze to find Renjun dipping the said fries in what was Jeno’s ice cream, shrugging as he wolfed them down, the sight making you chuckle before settling down between the two boys. 

“Okay, we’re gonna start from the very basics. Which form is the piece written in: prose or poetry?” You eyed them, sandwiched between the tall boys as they turned to look at each other over your head. “Prose?” “Poetry!” “Oh god,” you murmured at their simultaneous but conflicting guesses. Renjun laughed heartily while you dropped your face in your hands, “We have an hour to cover _all_ of this, so listen up.”

Remarkably enough, they turned out to be quite the fast learners. You managed to breeze through the whole piece despite the time restraint, doing your best to explain the levels of analysis and technique as simply as you could while they listened attentively, interrupting you every now and then when there was something they didn’t catch. “And… I think we’re done!” “Oh thank god,” Jaemin muttered, abruptly squeezing you into a fleeting but tight hug. You tensed a bit, not yet used to how touchy he was, but nonetheless pleased by his appreciative gesture. “I don’t think I’ll remember any of those big words, but I understand it better now. You’re a great teacher, Y/N.” You caught Jeno smiling down at you, and you had to look away before your face flushed from his compliment. 

“You know who’s an even _better_ teacher?” Three pairs of eyes cut to Renjun before you collectively groaned an answer, _“Choi.”_ “Yes! Exactly. So are you _still_ cutting CW today?” Renjun asked you. Before you could answer with a meek yes to his challenging look, your phone dinged from your bag, still on the empty chair beside Renjun where you left it. He fished it out for you, handing it over as you mumbled a thanks.

> **Unknown [1:42 pm]:** Hey  
>  **Unknown [1:42 pm]:** You going to class today?

Your eyebrows furrowed at the text. “Why is everyone pressuring me to go to class?” “Because you should!” You paid no mind to Renjun’s answer, another text taking hold of your attention.

> **Unknown [1:42 pm]:** This is donghyuck  
>  **Unknown [1:42 pm]:** From cw

Your eyes widened almost comically, feeling the blood rush away from your extremities, leaving your fingertips cold against the back of your phone. “What? Who is it?” You didn’t have the wits on you to hide your screen before Jaemin could read the texts. _“Oh._ Yeah. I almost forgot. Lee Donghyuck asked me for your number yesterday.” You moved your widened gaze from the screen to Jaemin, your aghast expression cluing him in that something was wrong. “Why are you looking at me like that…” He asked in a soft voice, slowly scooting farther from you. “Why would you give _him_ my number?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper. “Because he’s your project partner…?” As if you didn’t hear him answer, you squeezed your face in your hands and started lamenting to yourself. “Oh _god._ I managed to avoid him for one–almost two!–days and, and this is how I go down? All my effort…” You looked at Jaemin again, the expression you wore making him feel as if he kicked a puppy. “You’re avoiding him?” Jeno’s voice pulled your eyes to him, and it was like the heavens shone a light down on you. “Jeno!” You shouted, slapping your hands down your lap, startling the boy. “Yes…?” “You wanna pair up, right? Be my partner instead?”

Jeno’s face lit up at this plot twist, but there was a _tsk_ of disagreement from Renjun on the other side of the table. “Why are you trying to switch this Donghyuck guy out? And you’ve been avoiding him too… _Wait._ Is _he_ the reason why you wanted to cut class? And–and is _he_ why we haven’t seen you since Tuesday?” Renjun’s expression grew more curious as he mapped out his thought process, like he was uncovering a web of conspiracy theories. “Why? Did he do something to you?” With his question, the table suddenly felt much smaller than it was, the stares of your friends prickling at your skin as they anticipated your answer. Any other time, you might have felt grateful and protected over their concern, but right now you were a deer caught in the headlights. “N-no… he didn’t do anything...” How were you supposed to explain it? _Oh, I’m just pretty sure he was my imaginary friend from childhood and that he magically, inexplicably, grew up and came into life! And now I’m convinced that he’s come here to haunt me._ “I–I just… I can’t–can’t _face_ him.”

Silence swept around the table, and it was Jaemin who broke it after a few seconds. “Am I reading this right or… does our Y/N…” He trailed off, twirling a finger in the air as if it helps to convey his point. Renjun rolled his eyes before leaning forward, resting an elbow on the table as he finished Jaemin’s assumption, “Have a crush on Lee Donghyuck? Because I say yes. _Definitely.”_ The suggestion flipped a switch on from inside you, your nerves swiftly overridden by irritation. “What? I do not!” You protested, inadvertently slamming your phone down on the table in the process. “I vote yes too,” Jeno jumped in. “Jeno! This is _not_ a democracy.” Jaemin fake gasped beside you, whisper-shouting “Tyranny!” as another ding left your phone. 

Your attention was immediately on the device that was now lying unattended, and in true animal kingdom fashion, everyone dove in to get it, scrambling over each other’s hands. In the midst of that chaos, you detected the notes you protected so well now getting crumpled under the knee Jeno was balancing on his chair. You moved to retrieve them, distracting you from the rumble. “Gotcha!” Jaemin exclaimed, the prized object in his hand while Jeno restrained you in your seat by the shoulders. “Read it!” Renjun said, taking your now crinkled papers from you, giving you a sheepish look before stuffing them into your bag.

> **Unknown [1:49 pm]:** You have your  
>  **Unknown [1:49 pm]:** Read receipts on  
>  **Unknown [1:49 pm]:** Just saying

“Oh no. That’s a bad first impression, Y/N! He might think you’re…” Jaemin paused to give you a teasing look, _“...avoiding_ him.” Giggles broke out around you as you tried to wriggle out of Jeno’s hold, who only tightened his grip on your shoulders. “No, no, this is perfect! Gotta play hard to get, keep him on his toes.” Renjun’s little comment did nothing to subdue their cackles, Jaemin clutching on his stomach while Jeno kept slapping his thigh. “Oh. Oh dear,” Jaemin breathed, wiping a tear from his eye, “Shouldn’t keep him waiting too long,” he said, the tell tale tapping sounds alerting you that he was writing a reply.

> **You [1:52 pm]:** yah i’ll be there! :D

“Done!” Jaemin dangled the screen in front of you with pride, your eyes blazing at the sight of your–no, _his_ reply. “Jaemin! That’s not even how I fucking type.” Jaemin feigned surprise, a hand covering his mouth. “She just swore at me! For the first time!” Jaemin encased you in a loose hug, making Jeno break his hold on you. “Now I truly feel like we’re getting closer, Y/N.” You cut the moment short, pinching his sides harsh enough for him to yelp. “Too close,” you muttered at him, expression cold. “Aw, don’t be mad at me! Besides, if you two end up together–” “Uh, guys? We have six minutes until Choi’s class,” Jeno interrupted just as you were poised to do more damage to Jaemin. 

_“Shit,_ we’re gonna be late!” Renjun pushed himself off the chair, slinging his backpack behind him. “Language! Swearing is only cute on Y/N,” Jaemin added, smiling at you as he fixed his stuff more languidly. Jeno, on the other hand, was giving you a weird look. “What?” You asked him. “Will you go to class?” “No.” He nodded calmly before asking, “You’ve paid for this right?” He was gesturing to the food containers on the table, now all empty and neatly stacked up. “Yeah.” “Right,” Jeno said before looking at you again. You sighed. “Just tell me what it is, Jeno.” “I’m sorry.” “Wha–” Suddenly there was a pair of strong hands on your waist, and a second later your world turned upside down. Jeno had slung you over his shoulder, shouted at Renjun to “Bring our bags!” and ran out while you screamed and hammered closed fists on his butt like a toy drum. Your head was spinning and there was a faint ringing in your ears from the blood rush, but Jaemin and Renjun’s howls of laughter could be heard clear as day as they ran after you.

* * *

The small class ruptured in whoops and whistles when Jeno came running in with you still on his back. It was 2:06 pm, but thankfully Choi hasn’t arrived yet, diminishing the humiliation coursing through you just minutely. Jeno planted you back on your feet, and you take a few seconds to fix your clothes and blow the hair out of your face before glaring up at him, still sporting that _stupidly_ endearing eye smile of his. Jaemin and Renjun came in right then, the latter tossing your bags to Jeno. You took note of your surroundings, and you muttered to yourself when you realized that Jeno had put you down front and center in the classroom. 

You tried to walk past him to find a seat in the back, but he put an arm out to grab your shoulder and stop you. “What?” You whispered angrily at him. “We’re sitting here.” He gestured to the two empty seats adjacent to you, right there at the front row. As you lifted your gaze from the chairs to reproach him, your eyes locked onto something else. Lee Donghyuck, the ulterior motive to all of this, was seated right behind those chairs, looking at the two of you with a smirk and a delighted glint to his eyes. Just like that, your pent up anger was pushed to the back burner and all you could feel was his eyes on your skin, your cold feet on the floor, and your heart thrashing in your ribs. Two arms waving from the middle row invaded your line of sight, tearing your gaze away to find Jaemin giving you two thumbs up and Renjun dying beside him, trying to stifle his laughter.

“Good afternoon! Let’s get to our seats now, we’re running late,” Choi walked hastily into the room and wasted not a second more, placing his messenger bag on the table, uncapping the marker on his hand, and writing the topic of the day on the board like fluid choreography. You pulled your bag from Jeno’s grasp, left with no choice but to sit in front. “So, before anything else, who wants to give a quick rundown of the assigned reading?” Choi’s eyes swept across the room. “Yes, Renjun!” 

Being seated at the front meant looking back whenever someone would recite, but the mere thought had you swallowing. You knew that your eyes would immediately meet Donghyuck’s...unless he was looking at the back too? You decided not to take your chances, locking your gaze to the front and listening intently to Renjun’s voice instead. “It’s a short story–” “Are you sure?” You looked up, Choi’s sudden interruption surprising even you. “Y-yes, sir.” You couldn’t help but smirk at the slight shake in Renjun’s tone. What you would have _given_ to see his face at that moment. “Um, although it takes the form of being entirely a one-sided dialogue, it still satisfies the conditions to be considered a short story. It’s just the unusual point of view and style of the narrator used that could confuse its identification.” 

Choi sat on the table, index finger partially covering his mouth as his eyes narrowed at Renjun’s answer, seemingly in contemplation before flashing a smile at the class. “I was messing with you. That’s right! And I’ll take it from here, thank you Renjun.” You heard Jeno giggle beside you, him twisting back around to face the board again. “What’d he look like?” You asked him in a whisper. He shrugged, flashing a knowing smile at you. “I don’t know, can’t see for yourself?” 

“Our short story immediately divulges several details with the first few sentences: 

> _‘You sit across from me in a room that is otherwise swallowed in night, save for a dusty lightbulb hanging over heads, shining on our skin the kind of yellow that is reserved for sickness. No, sorry. You are standing–or sitting–or standing. I cannot tell, the light does not reach past our shoulders, and I cannot feel my legs.’_

“I’ll get rid of the obvious: it’s written in present tense; the point of view is in second person; the setting is a dark room with only one, doubtfully useful, source of light; and our narrator is utterly, terribly unreliable. That is what the reader knows at this point. Now, as a writer, _why_ would you want your reader to know this? What is the intention behind writing it this way? Yes? You–what’s your name?”

“Yangyang, sir.” You recognized the name as Renjun’s project partner, leaning forward in your seat as your interest grew in how he would answer. “The setting tips off that this is a thriller piece, and the point of view combined with an unreliable narrator establishes an unwanted dependence that heightens the fear factor.” Your eyebrows raised in acknowledgment. _Not bad._ Choi jotted down the keywords of his answer on the whiteboard. “Elaborate on that dependence.” 

“It’s written in a way that makes it feel like we’re being _described_ events rather than experiencing it ourselves. Sensory deprivation–like we’re blind to what’s happening. To add that we are relying on someone whose tone is frantic and uncertain, it leaves us wondering if there’s something not being said, something waiting to jump out in all that darkness.” You found yourself nodding along to Yangyang’s answer. He was definitely on the same pace as Renjun, that lucky bastard. “Excellent! The only thing missing from that is the tense. The story is in present tense. If anything is going to jump out, you don’t get a warning, and you are not receiving it as something gift wrapped and delivered from the past. These events are happening _right now_ as you are being told.”

“Do you know that he’s staring at you?” Jeno’s whisper ripped your attention away from the professor. “What?” He used his papers to cover his lips from view as he mouthed an answer to you: _Lee Donghyuck._ You rolled your eyes, but the seed was already planted. You were stiff in your seat, the thought of Donghyuck watching you creeping at the back of your mind, making you conscious even of the breaths that went in and out your lungs. You shook off the thought, setting your eyes back on Choi.

“Now, as the story progresses, so does the severity of the imagery provided–it gets worse, and worse, and even worse–but there is a phrase that stays constant throughout all of that. Can anyone tell me what that is?” You tried to focus on the discussion at hand, but the image kept flashing in your mind. They were watching you. Those eyes that never changed, eyes that you knew, were watching you. Do they remember you? Something was itching inside your gut, and it wasn’t fear. It was curiosity. You needed to _know,_ you just had to turn your head and–

“Don’t look back,” like an intruder to your thoughts, an unknown voice rang from behind before your body could heed your mind, your breath hitching in your throat. “Yes! The narrator always begins by saying ‘Don’t look back.’ Remember the setting: we are seated–or standing–in front of this person, only seeing each other from the shoulders up. In that dark room, you see nothing but their face as they describe to you the most gruesome things happening behind you, but at the same time they tell you not to look back. _Why?_ Because that is _exactly_ the most appealing reason for you to look back. The prohibition. The perceived _danger._ The reason why we cover our eyes with a hand when watching horror movies but peek through the spaces between our fingers nonetheless.”

“His eyes are literally boring into you right now,” Jeno mumbled as he shook his head beside you. “It’s not funny, Jeno,” you hissed, kicking his foot next to yours. “I wasn’t joking!” He whispered back, amusement evident in his grin despite his words. “Why don’t you see for yourself?” He added. You pretended not to hear that. With closed eyes, you willed yourself to stay calm. _It’s only for an hour and a half. Just sit still for an hour and a half._ “Now!” Choi’s booming voice sucked you back into reality. “Can anyone explain the conflict surrounding that? Yes, blue hair.”

“That would make the conflict man versus self, sir.” “Explain.” “It portrays an internal conflict within the character, _our_ character, as we struggle to make a decision.” You failed to recognize the voice immediately. It was Jaemin, and he was parroting your explanation from your quick tutoring session perfectly. You would’ve been proud, had the voices around you not been reduced to radio chatter in your head. “Isn’t it man versus man? You are, after all, choosing between your own desire and the warnings of your… _companion.”_ You remained oblivious to how Jaemin’s answer was being challenged by the professor. Every part of you was tense. Your bottom lip was trapped between your teeth, your thumb and forefinger rubbing the fabric at the edge of your sleeve, your right knee restless as you bounced lightly on the ball of your foot.

“I believe it’s still man versus self. The _companion_ only talks, never touches. It remains our own decision whether to heed them or not. It’s a mental battle at this point.” Jaemin hit the nail on the head, but unfortunately his words went through you like air. In through one ear, out through the other. In your mind, you were having a different conversation altogether. _Why don’t you see for yourself? Don’t look back._ “Thank you, blue hair! The conflict revolves around that internal choice, so naturally the climax, the height of all the tension, is laserbeamed on the moment that decision is made.” _See for yourself._ You closed your eyes, unsure whether you wanted to block out your thoughts or your surroundings. _Don’t look back._

“The narrator notices that tension in the reader, and they go from describing the horrid scene behind you to describing _you.” See for yourself. Don’t look._ “The sweat running down your neck, the pallor of your skin, the drenched hair sticking to your scalp.” _See. Don’t._ “The wild, unhinged look in your eyes.” _Why are you so scared? He’s just a–boy. Just a boy. Just look!_ “And then finally, even your mind.” You felt uncharacteristically cold. You wanted this over with. Your neck was stiff, but you inched it around slowly, eyes still closed. “For the first time, the narrator ceases the descriptions. They ask you: ‘You’re going to look, aren’t you?’” _See, don’t, see, don’t._ “You didn’t give any verbal answer. This narrative never gave you a voice, but you did turn around. And when you did...” _See don’t see don’t see don’t see don’t!–_

You opened your eyes. “Nothing.” You blinked at the empty chair behind you for what seemed like days before you realized it was _you_ who croaked out the word. _Nothing._ You waited for the turmoil in your chest to mellow into a faint thump. You realized, just then, that the class was oddly quiet. _Right. We’re at the end of the story._ Most of the discussion went over your head, and for what? _Damn you, Lee Jeno._ You took a deep breath, and turned around, and “Oh my god!” The atmosphere burst into fits of laughter around you. You had turned around to find Choi’s face directly in front of yours, shaking you up in surprise. From the ice cold feeling of your nerves earlier, you now felt like you’ve been doused in gas and lit up as an attraction. Jeno couldn’t stop his guffaws next to you, pinching one of your reddened ears in his fingers.

“I see someone had the pleasure of fully immersing themselves into the story,” Choi stood straight and walked back to the platform, looking terribly delighted with himself. “But she’s right! You turn around, and you find _nothing.”_ He sits back on the table before continuing. “What was that? You’ve been lied to? There is an abrupt shift in perspective to first person. You realize you’re now hearing your own thoughts, but the narrative moves too fast for you to process that. Can anyone read the closing paragraph?” You heard the classroom door open and close, compelling heads to turn rather than answer Choi’s question.

There he was. Holding a clear water bottle in hand, the few drops on its sides telling you it was recently filled with water. For the second time in this class you see Donghyuck inadvertently drawing everyone’s eyes on him. Choi claps once, gathering the attention back. “Right! I guess you’re our volunteer.” Donghyuck wordlessly points a finger to his chest. “Yes, you. Now sit down and read the final paragraph.”

Your eyes followed him as he walked to the second row, only pulling away when you notice him noticing you. You heard the squeak of his shoes against the tiles, the small screech of his chair as he sat, the rapid flipping of pages against each other. You heard him clear his throat, and you waited to hear his voice:

> _‘There is no blood, no mangled flesh, no bones. It is just a darkness that I could feel on my skin. Cold, but not frightening. Not frightening. Not after everything I have heard. I am not sure how to describe this hollowness gnawing me from inside. Did I want to see such violence? Such violent lies. There is a chastise waiting for you at the tip of my tongue. I lash my head back to your direction and you! You are gone. I reach my arm out in front of me to feel your absence, but I am met with something even colder. Hard to the touch. I tap a finger on it once, twice, over and over. Glass…?_
> 
> _No. A mirror. And I see_ nothing.’

The goosebumps ran through your skin. You remember the same feeling from reading it the first time, and to hear it in his voice... “Dramatic, isn’t it?” Choi’s voice was unusually soft as it cut through the silence of the class. “It was you all this time. Running laps in fear, and it all circles back to _yourself,_ and that is the very thing you ended up losing.” He stood up and walked to the board, erasing all he had previously written, replacing it all with two words. “Emotional investment. That’s what I thought this piece exceptionally showcased, and what I thought this class, as a whole, lacked in your drafts…” his eyes wandered and, for a moment, you thought they lingered on you. “Well, at least that’s the case for _most_ of you. And I’m not asking you to turn a story of your first trip to Disneyland into a slasher piece. I’m telling you that this is _creative writing,_ not show and tell. Don’t just robotically string descriptive sentences together. Use your imagination, color it in! _Take_ your reader wherever you want them to go. It doesn’t have to be _real,_ or it doesn’t have to be a boring kind of real. In this classroom, and probably this is the only class where this is true, your _imaginary_ becomes your _real._ ”

The clink of glass hitting the floor yanked you away from the charisma fueled lecture. A clear water bottle rolled its way from the space between you and Jeno. Instinctively, you leaned down to pick it up, nearly bumping foreheads with someone else. “Sorry,” he mumbled, taking the bottle from your hand. It was the first time you saw Lee Donghyuck up close. But you were sure, sure as day followed night, that it was not your first time to see those eyes. Those eyes that you knew, they were watching you. You put a hand to your chest as you sat up, feeling your heart acting up yet again. _Not frightening,_ you told yourself. _Not frightening._

“Well, that’s all for today! Don’t forget we’re having the first round of presentations on Tuesday, and it would be best if you take today’s lecture in consideration for your work.” Yet again like a choreographed scene, the bell rang exactly after Choi’s dismissal. You stayed seated despite the flurry of motion around you. You felt hands on your shoulders, and you looked up to see Jaemin wiggling his eyebrows at you. “Did you hear me today?” You smiled. “Yeah. You were so smart, Jaems.” Jaemin clutched at his chest. “Jeno! She gave me a nickname!” “That’s what everyone calls you, dumbass.” Jaemin smacked his arm and quickly ran off before Jeno could retaliate. “We’ll wait for you outside,” Jeno whispered in your ear, his gaze fixed behind you. You nodded, and took a deep breath as he walked away. You were not going to psych yourself out this time. _Just turn around._

“Hello.” You stood up and offered a hand to the boy behind you. He already had his backpack slung on one shoulder, transferring his phone to his left hand to shake yours with his right. “Hi.” “I’m Y/N.” “I’m Donghyuck, but you already know that...” You laughed softly, and then there was a few seconds of awkward silence with you just fiddling with your fingers behind your back, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Um, sorry for running off the other day. I had a class in–” “Bartlett, yeah. You sort of shouted it out.” He was smiling now, and you had to hide your face in your palm at the reminder. “No worries though. You probably think I’m some creep, running after you like that.” Your eyes widened at him. “No! No, not at all. I mean, you wanted to talk about the project right? I should’ve stayed back to talk a bit.” He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again as he nodded. “Right. The project. Um, since we already have each other’s numbers, let’s just send our schedules? See when we can meet up?” You smiled at his suggestion. “Yeah, sure.” 

There was a knock on the door. “Y/N? The next class using this room is here.” It was Renjun, who shot a smile at Donghyuck before dipping back out. “And my next class is in Bartlett, so speed it up a bit–ow!” “Stop interrupting!” That was Jeno’s voice, followed by Jaemin’s. “Oh, okay! Um, I’ll get going now. Nice to meet you, Donghyuck! And I hope we do well on this… thing.” You scrambled for your tote bag, taking two steps away before you hear Donghyuck call out “Y/N.” “Yeah?” Wordlessly, he stepped a little closer to you, staring at you. “Do you…” he started, but trailed off, eyes flickering on yours, left to right. “Donghyuck…?” Suddenly, he backed off, shaking his head a bit. “Sorry, nothing. I just… hope we do well on this thing too.” You smiled at him, a little unsure how to say goodbye again. “Y/N! Ow, would you stop hitting me?!” That was Jeno again. _Like the heavens shone a light down on you._ You pointed to the door, said “I’ll text you,” and waved goodbye before running outside.

**_< to be continued>_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhhhhh I KNOW “where tf is the hyuck interaction?! it’s been two chapters and he hasn’t spoken more than five sentences! jeno’s got more game!!!” I’M SORRY i wrote this out WITH the latter parts that had interaction, but it just felt awkwardly long compared to the first chapter so i chopped it (don’t hate me). this is a much slower burn than i intended, and it’s definitely going for more than three chapters (again don’t hate me) but i’m really invested in this story and i want it properly fleshed out so! 🤷♀️ more of the pairing for the next chapter, but for now i hope you enjoyed the friend group interaction (and that intense, frantic, anxious internal episode)

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Haechan day!


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